


In His Graces

by ditzymax



Category: K-pop, SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Creampie, Cunnilingus, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fellatio, Infidelity, Nipple Play, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Originally Posted on Tumblr, POV Second Person, Profanity, Reader-Insert, Safewords, Themes of Servitude, Unprotected Penetrative Sex, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-18 18:56:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20644049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ditzymax/pseuds/ditzymax
Summary: When the pressures of his duties and his marriage weigh too heavily, the King finds great solace in your company.





	In His Graces

**Author's Note:**

> Pairing: King!Soonyoung (Seventeen) x Handmaiden!Reader
> 
> Genre: Royal!AU - Angst, Light Fluff, Smut
> 
> Format: Female Reader’s POV
> 
> Warnings & Features: themes of servitude; mentions of stress and self-doubt; underlying themes of sexual suppression; profanity; infidelity; graphic sexual content (some dirty talk; light nipple play; fingering; fellatio & cunnilingus; edging/orgasm denial with safe-word usage; unprotected penetrative sex; creampie)
> 
> Author’s Note: I enjoyed writing this very much.

_She is the most beautiful woman in the kingdom._

Even without having met every last woman in the kingdom, even with your limited view of the world, even though you have never set foot beyond the palace grounds, you are certain this is true.

It is an honor to let your fingers even _ghost_ over her fine silks. It is an absolute _privilege_ to be in her service.

The soft smile of appreciation she gifts you for helping her don the finest garments and jewelry imaginable helps remind you of these humbling truths.

“Thank you, Lady ___,” she murmurs in her saccharine tone after you finish brushing the waves of her auburn hair away from her shoulders.

No matter how many times you insist that you are but her servant, unfit to be addressed as formally or respectfully as _‘Lady,’_ the Queen remains adamant in doing so. But she is still young. Young and poised and brimming with sweetness; truly a monarch worthy of the term ‘grace.’ She may yet outgrow the lessons of etiquette from her youth over the course of her reign.

_Long may she._

“Of course, Your Grace,” you whisper, dutiful and demure.

The Queen - blissfully naive to the hierarchal gap between the two of you and totally ignorant of your betrayals - turns to wrap you in a warm embrace. The press of her luxurious fabric through your plain cotton is exhilarating; the scent of her floral bath oils is intoxicating.

Just as you begin to relax in her hold, a brusque knock stiffens your muscles.

The Queen twists to look over her shoulder but does not entirely release you. “Come in,” she calls.

The heavy wooden door creaks open, and a raven crown bestowed with hefty golden metal peeks through.

“Why, you look especially radiant this evening, my lady,” declares the man who steps into the room. The clack of his low heels on the marble floor echoes along the walls.

There is only one lady in the room he could (_should_) be addressing so graciously, so the flick of his gaze in your direction must be a delusional mind’s imagination at work, nothing more.

But that is not true. You have _not_ imagined it and you know it. He has looked at you for far longer - and with much more longing - in evenings past. It has been weeks since the last time, though.

The memory of that most recent time heats your cheeks. You bite the insides of them and dip your eyes to the floor to keep from smiling inappropriately.

“Thank you,” responds the Queen. “And you look as dashing as ever, my lord. That shade of red suits you.”

He looks down upon his attire as though noticing it for the first time. He places a hand over his velvet, crimson-clad chest, and when he twitches his head humbly at the flattery, the intricately inlaid jewels of his crown sparkle in the torchlights.

“Thank you.” He briefly glances your way again, then holds a chivalrous elbow out to his wife. “Ready?”

“Yes.” The Queen glides her hands down your arms to squeeze your hands. “Have a good night, Lady ___,” she bids you, then leaves to accompany her husband to dinner.

* * *

_Three quick raps and, after a pause, two staggered._

The distinctive knock on your door at such an hour when good deeds are rarely done by those still awake should not excite you as much as it does, but your heart becomes positively airborne at the sound. It would be foolish and reckless to allow the visitor entry, but you do anyway.

You always do.

Because although you serve your Queen well, you would do _anything_ for your King.

When you open the door, there he stands. He has removed the telltale symbol of royalty from his head, along with the formal dining attire he was wearing hours ago. Now he is dressed in simple, dark cotton breeches and a nearly transparent white tunic that hangs low and loose on his frame. At quick glance in the darkness, he is unrecognizable for who he really is, which is perfect for the clandestine nature of his business in these parts of the palace.

His beauty and his stature do not come from fine garb or a crown, anyway. The slanted slope of his eyes, the roundness of his creamy cheeks, the curvature of his rosy lips, the angle of his jaw, the sinewy muscles lining his limbs - those are all features that contribute to how visibly striking he is. Beneath all of that, there is even more beauty. A strong sense of leadership, an abundance of generosity, a deep-rooted kindness, and, way deep down, in the places he has only recently begun to let you explore, there is a fractured layer of insecurity and vulnerability.

“You’re still awake.” He sounds equal parts surprised and excited. The moonlight streaming in from the open windows behind you catches the sheen of his rich chocolate eyes, and you watch them trace over your face. “I was hoping you would be. I dreamt all day about being able to visit you tonight.”

You usher him into your chambers where his thoughts can be said in privacy before they become more salacious. Only after the door is closed again do you say: “I was hoping you would come. I’ve missed you.”

An easy smile brightens his face at your confession. “I’m relieved to hear you say that. Truthfully, I often wonder if you would like to _stop_ these visits but are too afraid to tell me so.” His words sound pained. He too frequently sounds that way when he comes to see you.

You reach out to cusp his shoulders. “Why would I want these visits to stop? These are the only times I am able to call you ‘Soonyoung’ instead of ‘Your Grace’ or some other title,” you tease.

He laughs delightfully. “Oh, is _that_ the only reason you let me visit you? For a sense of familiarity with me?”

You smile and bring a palm to hold his cheek. “No, my King,” you say, using a title anyway to help convey your affection in a meek manner. “I enjoy our conversations.”

He shifts his weight, leaning into your touch but not in a relaxing way. “And… you enjoy the other things we do as well?”

Your smile turns sly. “Very much.”

He pauses a moment, then admits, “I was hoping the night would lead in that direction-” His breath hitches the moment you begin to express your agreement with that plan by sliding your fingers from his soft cheek down the slope of his neck, but he quickly catches them. “-but first, I would like for us to speak for a while, if you don’t mind?”

“Of course I don’t mind.” You adjust his hold on your fingers to slot them between each other and bring him further into the room. When he realizes you are leading him to the bed, he hesitates to move. You look him in the eye and say, “We can still get comfortable while we talk, right?”

Soonyoung smiles bashfully and follows you to sit on the edge of your mattress. Despite his request to chat with you, he does not start speaking right away. He simply keeps his hand in yours and stares at where they both rest on his thigh. A warm breeze lofting through the open windows ruffles his clothing and brushes his black bangs into his downcast eyes.

Although he has been making these visits with you for months, it always seems difficult for him to open the dam on the things he wants to say. His thoughts always leak out eventually, though, so you wait patiently in silence.

“Maybe we should just skip conversation,” he eventually decides with a troubled sigh that is terribly overused.

“No, no,” you coo, clutching his fingers a little tighter. “Tell me everything. _Any_thing. I’m listening.”

But if it is mere physical attention he wants right now, you are happy to oblige that too in the meantime. You take his other hand, and for a while, you trace his knuckles with your fingertips and lightly pinch the loose skin around them. You gently bend the digits back and forth and rub little circles into his palms. He watches you play with his hands as he contemplates his words.

Finally, he mutters, “It’s becoming more and more difficult lately to know if I am making the right decisions.”

He is not typically this vague with you anymore, so you ask him to be more specific. “Which decisions would those be?”

“All of them.” He tries to lighten his tense grievance with a laugh, but you understand the heaviness of the words anyway. “Decisions on what to prioritize, where to focus my attention, who to help, who to fight, who to trust.”

“Do you trust _me_?” you interrupt.

Soonyoung lifts his head to look at you. “Of course I do. At least, only until you give me reason not to.”

You smile at the clarification. “Good answer.”

He seems to find comfort in your acceptance of his prompt response and shifts to a more casual, cross-legged position on the mattress. You do likewise but do not let your hands separate from his. He begins playing with _yours_ now, running the pads of his fingers from your wrists to your nails, drawing mindless patterns of swirls and zig-zags as he goes.

“I should be able to trust Seoyeon with the things I tell you, too,” he muses solemnly.

“She _is_ your wife,” you point out, as though he is not already fully aware of the arranged commitment he entered a little more than two years ago, so soon after the abrupt beginning of his regime.

“She is. And she is a lovely woman,” Soonyoung emphasizes carefully. “She is beautiful and kind and truly does not deserve the betrayals I have committed. But our marriage…” The thought trails off unspoken and he shakes it from his head. There are still _some_ thoughts and feelings he does not disclose with you, but it is certainly his prerogative to keep them private. “There are many things about Seoyeon to love, and I have tried to _be in love_ with her because I am expected to, but I don’t know if I can.” This time, his laughter is devoid of humor. “And that’s another thing: _expectations_. There are so many of them - from my people, from my advisors, from Seoyeon... I cannot meet them all, but I do not want to fail any of them, either.”

The young king’s heartbreaking words spur you into motion to help him, coddle him. Before he knows it, you are kneeling behind him on the bed, tenderly kneading the shoulders that carry so many burdens.

You bring your lips to the shell of his ear. “Even if you fail, you are not a failure,” you tell him quietly. “End results do not define you, my king. It’s your efforts that do.”

He cranes his face in your direction. “I try so hard.”

“I know.” You graze a finger from his temple to his jaw, then hook it on his chin to get him to look directly at you from over his shoulder. “I know you do.”

Soonyoung looks back and forth between your eyes, then down to your lips, and you decide it is time to move on.

“We can stop speaking of worries and expectations now, if you like,” you suggest softly. “Just let go of all that for now. It’s just the two of us here right now.”

“You don’t know how much I appreciate you.” His kind words fan across your lips.

You run your thumb from one side of his chin to the other and back again. “I have an idea.”

The pointed lump in his throat bobs when he swallows. “You’re very special to me, ___,” he tries again to get his feelings across, but you have him hold that thought right there.

Soonyoung grunts in surprise at the abruptness of your kiss but swiftly reciprocates. Without parting your lips for longer than milliseconds at a time, he twists his body around to properly face yours and places a hand on the small of your back to draw you in even closer. His eyes close as he loses himself on your lips, and you let yours fall closed as well, cupping the edge of his jaw to ravish him with hungry kisses made all the more passionate from your weeks apart. His tongue is there to meet yours when the kissing becomes slower, deeper, less frantic. Tonight he tastes deliciously of the raspberries and cream he must have had for dessert, and the sweetness makes you sigh in delight. The responding groan he emits is musical.

Soonyoung uses the hand not on your tail bone to grab the back of your thigh and bring you onto his lap as he sits back. He slides his fingers up your leg, along the side curve of your butt, and stops when he reaches the hem of the thin sleeping gown riding along your waist. His skin is warm, but the smooth metal ring on his pinky is surprisingly cold, and a small tremble courses through you from the dual sensations. The tingling travels deep into your core to stoke the building heat. If Soonyoung notices just how much he is affecting you already, he does not boast about it.

Determined to have as much of an effect on _him_, you open your eyes and sneak your hands beneath his shirt, taking your time to run them up his stomach and slow the pace even more. His abdominals twitch beneath the pads of your searching fingers, and his nipples are already pebbled when you find them. Delicately, you roll each one in opposite directions and watch his eyes crinkle tighter. When you twist them the other way, his mouth shakes loose from yours in a soft moan.

He must sense you smiling and staring at his enjoyment because his eyes flutter open to look straight at you. He quirks one side of his mouth upward, possibly embarrassed at having been so caught up in himself; caught up in _you_. Then he looks down between your bodies and admits, “I’m already hard for you.”

You look down as well. The rising tent in his pants fills your chest with pride. “I’ll take care of that,” you assure him.

“Will you put your mouth on it again?” There is eagerness in his tone that could make it a _plea_ but for the lack of the word ‘please.’

The first time you had taken him into your mouth, Soonyoung had been so excited he finished within only a few minutes, overflowing your narrow throat with his seed and nearly choking you. Afterward - after he apologized profusely - he confided to you that his wife had never done such a thing with him in their marital bed. He said he had mentioned it to her on two separate occasions, but evidently the idea made her squeamish and uncomfortable both times, and he never dared to bring it up again.

But _you_…

You are not his wife.

So you scratch your nails across his stiff nipples and say, “If that’s what you want, then of course I will,” before grabbing the front of his shirt. But rather than pulling on it, you give his chest a firm push.

As soon as his back hits the mattress, you work to undo the laced threads on the front of his breeches. He wriggles to help you shuck them off his legs, and his length springs free in the process. It stands stiff in the open air, looking all the more inviting with a beaded glimmer of wetness on the tip. You absently wonder how Queen Seoyeon’s mouth could not positively water at this sight, but you quickly push away your judgments. Instead, you focus on the task at hand, but your hands only make it to his inner thighs before Soonyoung catches one of your wrists. When you look up at his face, he is staring back at you with trepidation.

“It’s not too selfish of me to ask you to do this, is it?” he worries, rising to prop his top half up on his elbows.

You can’t help but smile at his consideration. “Not at all. Trust me, I _want_ to do this.” With that, you bend to the pleasure of your task.

“_Hnn… Ha-ah_,” he hiccups the second you wrap your mouth around the tip of his cock to capture that tempting dew drop from it. After the saltiness of it fades on your tastebuds, you flick your head to the side and glide your tongue down the full length of his solid shaft. There is a familiar taste unique to his natural skin, along with traces of the oil he must have used in his recent bath, not so different from the scent you noticed on the Queen earlier. You suckle at the tangy sweetness of him with more wet kisses, inching your way upward until you return to his flared cockhead. You relish the blood-weighted heaviness of it on the edge of your tongue long enough to catch another pearl of his leaking arousal, then push it past your molars in a fell swoop.

Soonyoung gasps when he hits the back of your throat. You know he would like to go further - you know he would be more than happy to just let his cock sit idly housed in the pulsing muscles of your throat - but you quickly withdraw back to the start with a swirl of your tongue. He does not complain. On the contrary, he brings his fingers to the back of your head and tenderly massages your scalp.

“You’re so good at this,” he praises.

“Is this how you want to come?” you check.

He exhales a quiet laugh. “Honestly, I’m already doing my best _not_ to right now. It feels like it’s been ages since we’ve been together and I want to hold out.”

You thought he might say that, and you know where this is going. You know how much anticipation riles him; much more than quick and easy gratification. When he toes along the edge multiple times before tumbling over it, he is always much more relaxed, much more satisfied afterward. The payoff after a long buildup is always so much sweeter.

You pump him with languid strokes made easier from the slick mixture of your spit and the moisture he is producing himself. “Do we have time for that?”

“You’re with the King. We have all the time I say we do.” He must really want it to let his lust brandish his prestigious position for once, and that’s fine with you.

“Tell me when, then,” you instruct. “You remember the code word, right?”

He could not be trusted to simply say _‘I’m close’_ or something of that sort. Sometimes ‘close’ isn’t really as close as he thinks, sometimes it’s so close that it’s past the point of no return, and sometimes it sounds more like a spur than a warning. The code word the two of you have decided upon, however, has an agreed, definitive meaning more effective than even the word ‘stop’ - especially when ‘stop’ can often be paired with ‘don’t.’ The code word is something either of you can speak to jar the other from the moment to cease any type of play without question.

“_’Diamond,’_” he recites presently, and you nod in confirmation before letting your lips encase his swollen member again and building up a bobbing rhythm. You keep your tongue pressed to the sensitive vein on the underside as you go and twist your fist repeatedly around the last little bit of him that you cannot comfortably fit in your mouth while sustaining this quick of a pace.

Soonyoung’s hand slips from your head to the back of your neck as you work him, but he does not push. He lets it rest there as though to help brace you, or himself, or both of you. His breath turns more ragged by the second, and it does not take many before he is warning you that he’s getting too close, breathing out the word that will make you stop.

You remove your mouth and still your hand around his base while you wait for the pressure that was mounting inside to ebb. After counting to ten in your head, you start building it again with firm strokes. Each time you reach the head of his penis, you squeeze a little tighter, and each time he groans, you grin a little wider. His arms start to tremble but he maintains his propped position, and when you bring your eyes to his face, he is staring right back beneath hooded lids.

“_Diamond_,” he grunts again, tickling your neck. He gulps and swipes his tongue over his lips.

You stop your strokes again but still tease him with a quip. “I didn’t even put my mouth on you that time.”

He lets out a whine and lolls his head in a half-circle around his neck. “It’s been a while,” he reminds you, and you cannot tell if he is merely restating that fact or trying to defend himself.

“How many do you think you can take?”

“I don’t know. Can we see how I feel after the next one?”

You smile, say, “Of course,” then take him back in your mouth.

Soonyoung shudders as your hot tongue laps along the ridge of his cockhead, but you know you can do better than a measly shudder. Amplifying the game, you bring your fingers to the tightened sack between his shaft and his buttocks to fondle the orbs gently, and he keens higher than ever at the new sensation in play. His cock twitches in your mouth, trickling profusely at this point. The single elbow left holding him up finally gives out and his back thumps onto the bed, as does the hand that was curled along the back of your neck. His fingers crumple the sheets by the fistful as he tries to stave off his imminent explosion for as long as possible.

With eyes trained on the sight of him, sprawled yet tense, you purr, “Is it too much? Are you going to say it?”

“N-no,” he grits. “Keep going. Please.”

You tug on his balls and glide your fist along his shaft. “Are you sure?”

“I can h-hold it,” he insists, though his writhing body is telling you otherwise. “P-_please_ don’t stop, ___.”

You answer his plea with more speed but still issue a warning. “You won’t be able to go again if you come now. You’re going to come so hard for me tonight and you won’t have the energy to keep going after that.”

That knocks some sense into him, and he admits defeat with a strained: “_Diamond_.”

You let go of him entirely, and his cock falls taut against his stomach with a resounding _plop_ that calls your core to clench with want.

Soonyoung runs a hand up his forehead and through his hair. His chest heaves in shallow breaths. Drops of sweat sparkle on his neck.

“Do you want a break?” you ask.

“Yes. …No.” He snickers at his contradiction and looks at you. “I want _you_ to take a turn, if that’s alright?”

You smile. “I always want you to touch me.”

He grins back. “Come here and I will.”

You can’t resist that deal, so you shuffle up the mattress on your knees with his body straddled between them. You only make it to his lower stomach before he splays his hands along your inner thighs to stop you.

Wordlessly, he rises to a sitting position to strip off his shirt, then tugs lightly on the hem of your gown to ask silent permission to do the same. With your nod, he removes it and drops it aside. Then both of his hands are cradling the space between your jaw and neck, bringing your lips back to his. His kisses are needy but full of tenderness, and he smiles as he claims the soft moans you let slip. He trails his hands down to seek out your breasts, but he does not linger on them. A little fondling - some gentle squeezes and brushes over your erect nipples - and he is traveling further southward, across your belly, along your hips, back to your inner thighs.

You hasten to remove the last little bit of your clothing, and once you are bare, you swear you can feel Soonyoung shivering with excitement.

“Same game?” he asks you.

“Yes please,” you whisper.

And so he dips the pads of his fingertips along your slit to begin. You immediately shudder at the relief of finally being touched, bracing your palms on the expanse of his shoulders.

“You’re so soft,” he coos, rubbing back and forth with purpose. “I can’t wait to have you dripping on my hand.”

Something you have learned about Soonyoung is that his tongue tends to fly looser and lewder when _he_ is the one doling out pleasure rather than receiving it. Then again, perhaps your pleasure _is_ his pleasure.

“It probably won’t take long,” you admit with a shameless laugh.

“Tell me when, then,” he repeats your earlier words back to you, then eases a finger into your warmth. You think he remarks again on how soft you are, but you aren’t sure if you hear him correctly over your moan.

He starts a smooth dragging motion and soon fits a second finger in beside the first. Your walls clench tighter on his knuckles in welcome. His digits retreat only to plunge back in further, again and again.

“More,” you beg, trying not to claw at his skin.

Soonyoung nibbles your bottom lip. “Faster? Or harder?”

“Harder.”

So he works his fingers harder, as deep as he can get them with slow, determined strokes. The heel of his palm grinds into your aching clit with every push; the tips of his fingers curl in search of that spot he knows will hurry you toward the edge. _He_ probably would not mind if you fell over it and failed the game, but you don’t want to. Not yet.

“_Diamond_,” you groan.

He slips his fingers out of you. The slick sound of their exit tells you that you will indeed be dripping on him in no time.

“Do you want to lie down for the next one?” he suggests.

You shake your head. “I won’t be able to concentrate if I’m too comfortable.”

“Ah.” He pecks the corner of your mouth, then your chin. “What about sitting over my face? Would _that_ be too comfortable?”

His vulgar request and chaste affection heats your skin.

Rather than answering with words, you push him back for the second time tonight, gentler this time. Once he is on his back again, you climb up and spread your legs on either side of his head. You look down and catch his eyes staring up at you with nervous excitement, and you know it is because this is something else his wife does not make a habit of participating in - at least according to him. You thread your fingers through the King’s hair and wonder how the Queen would _not_ want to have this face between her knees every chance she gets. Soonyoung compliantly takes the finger you insert between his parted lips, and you wonder how Seoyeon would _not_ want to have her cunt licked like this.

Again, you chase your thoughts away to focus in the moment, and right now you are lowering your quivering center to Soonyoung’s waiting mouth.

He moans the second your weight settles lightly on him and greets your soaked, petaled lips with a warm kiss. “Tell me when,” he reminds you, gruff and slightly muffled. “Unless you want to forget the game and just come right now.”

“Are you planning to fuck me tonight?”

Soonyoung nuzzles his nose into you, and even after his lewd proposal, even with him buried in your most intimate area, the gesture feels inherently shy; maybe because of your crass, direct language. It is not often that he uses such words himself.

“I want to, yes.”

“Then I’ll wait,” you decide, carding your fingers through his hair again.

He hums in understanding, then licks a long stripe along the crease between your legs, and you automatically tighten your grip near his scalp to help ground yourself against the electricity that races through your nerves. The wet muscle cannot reach as far as his fingers, but it feels good when it prods inside you nonetheless. He takes his time lapping at your sensitive walls, stiffening his tongue as best he can to give firm, calculated licks.

“Fuck, you’ve gotten better at this,” you pant, tossing your head back.

“Thank you,” Soonyoung graciously accepts your compliment. He presses his tongue flat to your inner lips, then reels it back into his mouth with another wet kiss. “And you’re even sweeter than I remember.”

Your appreciation comes through a moan of his name when he decides it is time to visit your clit. He takes your feedback as encouragement and flicks at the throbbing bud to continue earning the same sounds from you. He performs every instruction you give (_“Over a little… right- _my_ right… There! A little faster… Now suck on it. Shit, that’s so good, Soonyoung…”_) with toe-curling skill until eventually you cannot keep up without coming all over his pretty face.

“_Diamond_,” you whimper, rising out of swiping distance from his dancing tongue.

He whines at the loss but settles for licking up the residual stickiness you’ve left on his lips and chin. His hands wind their way up your backside to pull at your ass. “Come back here,” he orders hoarsely. “Forget the game. I want to make you come, ___. I want you to come on my face, then on my cock, as many times as you can handle it.”

“So greedy,” you tsk.

“I just want to please you,” he insists, squeezing your bottom to tempt you back toward his mouth.

_Please me,_ you muse to yourself. He may not be able to please _everyone_ the way he wishes he could, but you know he can certainly do _that_ much, and you are happy to let him.

But rather than sit on his face again, you move to the side and get on your hands and knees. “I want you behind me,” you explain when he does not immediately follow your lead.

Once he understands what you want, he scrambles into position with almost comical speed. His swollen cock pokes earnestly against the back of your thigh, and you reach behind you to help guide it where you need.

“Are we still playing?” Soonyoung asks as you run his tip through your dripping juices.

“No, this time I want us both to come,” you reply.

He moans wantonly and takes his pulsing erection into his own hand to fit the bulbous head into your waiting cunt. With a tilt of your hips, it pops smoothly inside, and Soonyoung moves his hold to your hips as he gradually sinks himself in the rest of the way, not stopping until there are no more inches to give. You bite your lip to keep from crying out at just how good the stretch of him feels again after all these weeks without it.

While he waits for you to adjust, he mentions, “Seoyeon does not have sex with me like this. _‘That is not how a husband should make love to his wife,’_ she says. _‘That is how a dog takes a bitch.’_”

“Take me,” you urge breathlessly, clenching the sheets and clenching on his dick. “Oh gods, Soonyoung, I need you to take me.”

That is all the encouragement he needs to stop speaking of his wife and focus on _you_.

He draws his hips back until his cock almost leaves you entirely, then plunges in fast. Deep. Hard enough to expel what little air you have in your lungs in the cry you had been withholding.

He uses that sound as more positive feedback and gives you with another hard, swift stroke. His excitement over fucking you in this fashion builds, as does his speed. The sounds of his strong thighs slapping against yours ring loudly, but if either of you are concerned with the noise carrying out of the open windows, neither of you have the mental capacity to voice it in the midst of your carnal pleasure.

“I won’t last much longer like this,” Soonyoung admits, panting. He slows his pistoning to hold out as long as he can. “But you have to come first, ___.”

Before you can beseech his help to get you there, he is moving his fingers between your legs to toy at your clit, pressing and rolling it in the ways you taught him.

“Just like that,” you propel him. “I’m so fucking close, Soonyoung.”

He readjusts his tight, one-handed grip on your waist and concentrates on keeping the perfect angle to repeatedly strike that bundle in your silken depths. “Me too.”

He rubs harder, pushes to get every last centimeter of himself inside your wet heat. It is not long before the blissful end looms before you. A few more thrusts and you burst through it with a muffled shriek into your pillow and a vise clamp on his thick cock.

Soonyoung trembles and drops his forehead all the way down to your shoulder blade as the ripples of your orgasm bring his to the boiling point. He takes his fingers away from your clit when you whimper in oversensitivity. His thrusts lose coordination as the desire to reach his own climax overwhelms him.

“___… _Ah-hah_, oh _shit_, I’m- I’m gonna-” The force of his release sends him twitching even before you feel the warmth of it pouring into you. He writhes to milk himself of all he has as his orgasm rolls on, groaning at the achievement of long-awaited gratification.

The pair of you slip down from your highs and slump to the bed in a heap of boneless limbs glazed in sweat. Soonyoung is careful not to crush you but leaves his softening member nestled inside you. For a while, the only sounds you can hear are his jagged breathing and your erratic heartbeat as everything settles to their normal rates.

“Thank you,” he murmurs eventually. Needlessly.

“You don’t have to thank me every time,” you giggle quietly. “It was my pleasure.”

When Soonyoung feels you trying to turn over from underneath him, he shifts aside, groaning softly when his flaccid cock leaves you.

Once the two of you are settled and lying close, side by side and facing each other, you ask, “Will you be staying a while longer?”

“I’d like to, unless that’s your subtle way of throwing me out,” he kids.

“I would never. You’re always welcome to stay as long as you like.”

He hugs an arm around your waist and pulls you in to kiss your forehead. Then he closes his eyes and lies in silence for a while. You think he has fallen asleep until he speaks up again.

“It would be foolish of me to stay the entire night, wouldn’t it.” He poses it as a question he already knows the answer to.

“Well, you probably _should_ return to your own bed before morning if you know what’s good for you,” you advise.

Soonyoung chuckles. “Maybe I’m tired of doing what’s considered ‘good for me.’” His words try to come out lighthearted, but you understand the hard truth in them.

“That’s why you come to see me, isn’t it?”

He reopens his eyes to look at you. “Yes… and no. You see parts of me that no one else does. Being with you makes me feel free, which I believe is good for me. But sometimes I fear that I… that I’m being terribly selfish and you do not get nearly as much enjoyment from these nights as I do. These nights are not meant to be flippant trysts, ___. I cherish your company, and not just for the incredible sex.”

Your heart kicks up at his confessions, but even so, you cannot stop your attempts at keeping the mood light. “I’m honored that you think it’s incredible.”

Soonyoung takes your cheek in his hand. “I mean it,” he persists. “You have no idea how important you are to me. I’m-” He licks his lips in quick thought, then continues, “I don’t want to say anything too forward too soon, but I don’t know how else to put it to you. I think I’m falling for you, ___, and it’s because my favorite part of me is the part I am when I’m with you.”

“You speak dangerous words,” you murmur, helpless to break his captivating gaze. Your fingers are shaking when you place them over his to press them even closer against your face. “But I could listen to you all night long.”

He beams. Happiness looks so good on him.

“Then I shall stay and speak all night long,” he promises.

So here, now, content to be held and adored, you dare not dwell on the treacherous consequences that will come from having the nerve to fall hopelessly in love with your King.

* * *

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